


i know your story (but tell me again)

by only_because3



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Witch AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-08-14 02:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_because3/pseuds/only_because3
Summary: Over the years, a lot of people have asked Tessa what her secret is to growing so many beautiful things. She mostly chalks it up to luck but also sites good soil and knowing when to leave the plants to do their own thing. If you were to ask Scott, he thinks it likely has to do with how much she talks to all her plants. She never tells people because “I don’t want anyone to think I’m some earthy hippie, Scott,” but he could swear that Tessa’s plants grow a little taller with every conversation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I wanted to get this first part up before Halloween ended and I made it by the skin of my teeth! I’ve been wanting to play around with witch!Tessa for a while now but to do it in a way no one would assume at first so, enjoy? Also there will be two more chapters but AO3 is apparently not letting me say that lol
> 
> Big thanks to the girls in the gc for helping me make this better and then assuring me it wasn’t shit.

On a cold Sunday morning in October when he’s eighteen and Tessa is sixteen, Scott realizes he might be more than a little in love with Tessa.

He’s not exactly sure when that happened, when his best friend became more than that in his heart, but it hits him square in the chest all the same as he’s peeling potatoes for her mom and she’s making a centerpiece for his mom.

There’s the annual harvest festival tonight which means their mothers are frantically getting everything together and making anyone in yelling distance help get everything ready. For the past two years, his mom has insisted Tessa make the centerpieces for the tables in the auction hall because Tessa has the best green thumb in this part in Ontario. He’s not being facetious either; since she was ten, Tessa has been entering various growing competitions at his mom’s encouragement and she’s got plenty of blue ribbons for each season.

Kate always bakes for the cake walk but also makes sure that before everyone heads for the fairgrounds from the Moir household they have a proper dinner. Hence the small mountain of potatoes Scott is currently peeling. 

He doesn’t mind though because Kate’s cooking is stellar and he gets to sit back and watch Tessa do her thing. She brought over a basket earlier filled with flowers and branches and vines from the Virtue garden and to see her weaving everything together to create these beautiful wreaths makes his stomach do that swoopy thing. It’s kind of stupid, he thinks, because it’s not as if Tessa is doing anything tempting or sensual or anything that should make a red blooded teenager like himself think about hockey stats. But there’s something about how much care Tessa puts into her work, the concentration that takes over her face. Her whole world boils down to what’s in front of her. She often worries her lip between her teeth, eyes going squinty as one of the vines proves to be a little difficult to work with. Whenever hair falls into her line of sight she leaves it, whenever there’s an itch she ignores it. She’s not rude when she gets into this zone but anyone close enough to Tessa knows that it’s better to just let Tessa do her thing because you won’t get her full attention.

When she’s done, she smiles wide and proud at her creation.

(She used to give a few leaves a kiss but he’d been a dumbass and told her it was weird a few years back and he hasn’t seen her do it since.)

“Lookin’ good, Tess,” he says, sitting up a little straighter. He looks down at the potatoes and realizes he’s only gotten through two while watching her.

Her smile dims a little when she looks up at him, cheeks faintly pink from the running heater and the oven filled. Her thanks comes out like a murmur and gets lost in the bustle of his dad and Danny coming in from outside.

He doesn’t notice until he’s loading the centerpieces into the car how vivid the colors of the leaves are. They look almost fake, the yellow and red and orange so bright that Scott has no idea how she seems to find the perfect pieces to include.

—

The first time he sleeps with Tessa, they’re in her door room the night before they head home for spring break. Her roommate had already dipped the day before so there was a free bed but he stayed in Tessa’s anyway because, well, he doesn’t know why.

She hadn’t asked him to leave, only snuggled in closer, and truthfully, they’ve been toeing the line a lot lately despite the fact they’re both dating other people. Or, Tessa was, at least, until three weeks ago.

It’s normal as always, as normal as they are anyway, until sometime around five, the sun starting to shine through the curtains of the window behind Tessa’s bed. He’s not exactly sure which of them starts it or how it happens (Charlie gives him shit about that later) but he will never forget how strong the scent of the flowers on her desk were as she soaked his hand or how bright the sun burned in her room when she sank down onto his cock.

That week everything seems more vivid, more beautiful, just…  _ more _ . It feels like a perfect spring, with Tessa’s hand in his and her cackle of a laugh carrying through the wind. They spend most of their time outside, either on his parents’ property or in the Virtue garden and he swears he’s never seen Tessa so happy.

Which is why he’s more than a little confused when the week is over and Tessa pats his cheek, hands him a little potted succulent, and tells him that she needed that break but she understands that he has a girlfriend and for him not to worry.

But he’s realizing now that it’s better to follow Tessa’s lead than to open his stupid mouth.

—

“Don’t leave just yet,” Tessa yells from the kitchen as he dusts snow off his jacket in the mud room. He knows she’s perfectly capable of clearing her driveway herself but he’d already been up doing his mom’s and figured that he may as well go do hers. “I’ve got goodies for your parents!”

“If it’s something you cooked, I think they’d rather you didn’t, Tess.” He hears her padding closer as he looks down to study his boots. They’re not too dirty or wet so Tessa could let him leave them on but this is also Tessa. When he looks up, he finds her glowering down at him. He grins and she scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“That smile doesn’t work on me, Moir. I’ve known you too long.” She sits down on the bench she keeps in the entry,letting the canvas tote that so frequently travels between her house and his parents’ sit on the floor. He takes a peak even though he’s still pretty useless at telling some of the things apart. He can smell the basil and he  _ thinks _ one of the other of bushels in the bag is mint but beyond that he has no clue. All he does know is that his mom always cooks amazing meals with the herbs that Tessa grows and he’s so glad that Tessa’s green thumb thrives even in the harshest of winters like they’re having now. 

Everything is tied with the brown twine Tessa keeps on her kitchen counter. “I’ve got some mint, basil, and rosemary in here, along with some lavender and camomile. Plus, some of the banana bread my mom made earlier this week down at the bottom.”

He slings an arm around her shoulders, presses a kiss to her temple, her cheek. “This is why my parents took you on as a daughter,” he says and she laughs.

“Yes because herbs are so valuable.” He knows she’s going for joking but her voice sounds funny, almost like she doesn’t want to be saying it. 

“Mom cooks with them all the time. You’ve single handedly been spicing up my mom’s meals for over a decade,” he tells her. Her cheeks go pink and it makes him want to kiss her again so he does.

He runs his free hand through his hair before looking down at his shoes again. He thinks to run over and shovel Kate’s drive too, though he’ll have to check with Tessa. He knows she’s been seeing someone regularly but he doesn’t know if they’re serious enough that he’d be clearing snow for her yet. “Should I go do your mom’s drive too?”

He looks up to find Tessa shaking her head. “Her  _ boyfriend _ is on it.”

Scott lets out a long whistle. “Kate’s got someone with a  _ label _ ?” Tessa rolls her eyes but regales the story of yesterday’s Virtue family lunch (a Saturday staple since Jim and Kate divorced). Kate had apparently made a certifiable  _ feast _ which made both Jordan and Tessa suspicious until the new boyfriend came knocking. “He had a bottle of wine and flowers for each of us.” Scott doesn’t miss the way her nose wrinkles and he laughs a little as he gets his other boot untied.

“Not up to your standard?”

Tessa’s face pinches, like she’s just eaten something sour. “You’ll have to come look at them. They’re atrocious.”

Boots set next to Tessa’s and bag set on top of his coat so he can’t forget it, he stands and follows Tessa into her family room. On her coffee table is a bouquet that was most definitely  _ not _ put together by Tessa. “I can’t believe you brought this into your home,” he laughs. Tessa frowns at the offending arrangement, hands settling on her hips.

“I’m going to try to fix it so I don’t seem rude.” Scott laughs again and slings an arm over Tessa’s shoulders, pulling her close.

“Can I help?”

Tessa looks up at him, visibly surprised by his request, and the smile she gives him is cautious but she nods nonetheless. 

Bundled up, they walk side by side in the snow. Tessa points out the tree she’s going to bring in for Christmas next month. She has a whole line of them growing on the edge of her property and he doesn’t understand how each year she has such perfect pine trees. They’re always so lush and cascade so nicely in shape. He knows next to nothing about growing so he’s not sure if he should be amazed at the fact that Tessa grows trees every year or not but he is anyway.

Tessa hums under her breath as she heads towards a bush rife with flowers along her fence and he could swear that the plants perk up the closer she gets to them, like they’re straining to be the ones Tessa picks. “Hello my loves,” Tessa says softly as she crouches down. 

Over the years, a lot of people have asked Tessa what her secret is to growing so many beautiful things. She mostly chalks it up to luck but also sites good soil and knowing when to leave the plants to do their own thing. If you were to ask Scott, he thinks it likely has to do with how much she talks to all her plants. She never tells people because “I don’t want anyone to think I’m some earthy hippie, Scott,” but he could swear that Tessa’s plants grow a little taller with every conversation.

“What’re you picking,” he asks, settling in next to her.

“This is a camellia,” she explains as she takes off her mitten. She brushes the snow from the petals before plucking it from the bush. The stem snaps cleanly, like it was waiting for Tessa to choose it. The one she passes him is a pale pink and she gets two more, a white one and a darker pink, before moving on wordlessly to a different flower. The color on these ones are much more intense and their stems are fairly short. Tessa takes a few anyway from the bunch. “These are pansies.” She has five flowers in her hand and she placed the palest of the purple pansies behind his ear with a little giggle. 

“You know,” he says, following behind her to a holly bush next to her back door, “you’ve never given me anything you’ve grown.”

She snaps off a branch. “Liar, I’ve given you plenty of pumpkins over the years… watermelon too.” She points at him with the holly.

“Yeah, but you’ve never given me flowers.”

She looks at him carefully, shoulders dropping beneath her big coat. “Right back at you,” she says softly and he can’t help the grin that pulls at his cheeks.

“Give  _ the _ Tessa Virtue, gardener extraordinaire, flowers?” Scott shakes his head. “I’ll stick with bringing you food.”

Tessa laughs lightly and takes two steps in front of him, offering him the branch to add to the bundle they’ve collected. “Do you even have a favorite flower,” she asks.

He shrugs. He’s never given it much thought before and so he says the first thing that comes to mind which he finds is the truth. “My favorite is anything you grow.”

Later, when he comes back to pick her up for the usual Sunday dinner at his parents’ place, she climbs into his truck with two bouquets in her hand. “This one is for you,” she says, almost shyly. He didn’t remember seeing any of the flowers in the bundle she hands him in her backyard but he supposes he never pays that much attention. “I used mainly dahlias because I thought you’d like the look of them.” She points to the flowers whose petals start red before bleeding into white, the blooms so large that they nearly hide the white peonies Tessa included.

She goes to explain the peonies but he stops her. “I know what these are,” he says. “Because they’re your favorite.” It’s rare for Tessa to have an arrangement in her house that  _ doesn’t  _ include peonies and it seems that every room has some sort of bouquet put together by Tess each week.

Tessa smiles. “Yeah,” she says with a nod. She leans over and scrapes her lips against his jaw. “I hope you like it.”

He doesn’t think anything of it when the bouquet doesn’t wilt for three weeks but throws it out anyway when Tessa gives him another.

—

Tessa always has fresh flowers in her house.

As long as he’s known her, Tessa has surrounded herself with flowers and it’s only gotten worse the older they’ve gotten. Since getting her own home, arrangements litter most surfaces downstairs on any given day, have a permanent residence on her bedroom dresser, and grace her guest room whenever Tessa knows it’ll be used.

Scott isn’t sure how she does it. 

There are nights when Scott absolutely doesn’t intend to spend the night and still finds a vase of fresh flowers from Tessa’s garden, artfully arranged on the bed side table to the left of the bed. He never sees her go in to leave them for him but she clearly must at some point.

Maybe she just puts them in there every time he comes over, just in case.

Scott loves it when he comes over to find her immersed in her latest harvest. Her kitchen island, which so rarely sees food, is littered with flowers and herbs and plants, vegetables and fruits and whatever else Tessa has growing in the backyard on any given day. His favorite is watching her pull together her bouquets because it reminds him of when she would put together the centerpieces for the harvest festival. Tessa is nothing if not detail oriented, focused. She trims and prunes her flowers, carefully inspects each one with careful eyes and a small grin. It’s not until each stem is taken care of that she begins the arrangements. He asked once why she didn’t just bundle the flowers and go about her day instead of spending half her Sunday mornings making bouquets at her mother’s  (he had been twenty and still mostly a dick and hadn’t really taken into account just how  _ serious _ Tessa still was about her gardening).

“There are many things to consider,” she said, tulip, petals the most vibrant red he’d ever seen, held between her fingertips and pointed at him. Location was the most important thing to consider. It would dictate the size of vase, the color of the flowers, how many open blooms would be included. “You don’t want a tall vase filled with sunflowers right in the middle of the dining room table. You wouldn’t be able to see past them.” Tessa is always sure that the colors of the flowers don’t clash with the rooms they go in (though Scott doesn’t see how difficult that would be given her penchant for white) and she always makes sure the flowers reflect the season.

But today is not for bouquets. Today is for flower crowns which she promised the kids at dinner last week that she’d bring this week. There are dahlias and lilies and amaryllis (he’d had to ask her about that one) in front of her and he has a hard time looking away from the flower he’s only just learned about today. The petals are yellow with the most gorgeous shade of red brushed through the centers and it’s hard not to notice that Tessa’s lipstick matches the accent color. “How do you decide which to pick,” he asks as she clips a leaf from a dahlia.

“They tell me when they’re ready,” she says, unthinking, her attention on the task at hand. When she’s satisfied with the stem of the flower, she blinks, blushes. “That sounds crazy.”

He shrugs. It does but it also doesn’t because this is Tessa. He’s gotten used to how enigmatic she is when it comes to her gardening.

He picks up one of the amaryllis, thumbs at one of the petals softly. “I really love this one.” She smiles and he hopes that she makes a crown for herself too because he suddenly wants to see this nestled against her dark brown hair. “Can I help make one?”

She comes to sit beside him, teaches him with a soft voice and gentle hands how to weave the flowers into a crown that is sturdy but delicate. It’s hard, his fingers not as nimble as hers, not as familiar with the material as she is, but when he’s finished, he doesn’t think it looks half bad. 

Tessa’s already finished four crowns in the time it has taken for him to do one but her face lights up when he shows her his. “Scott, this is great!”

He grins and plops it on to her head, thankful that she’s left her hair down this morning. Her face is so sunny and bright. “Those flowers remind me of you,” he says before he can stop himself. “The amal- amary-“

“Amaryllis,” she supplies and he nods.

“That one.” He straightens her crown a little, tucks some hair behind her ear. “You look just like it right now.” Tessa takes a deep breath and he watches as her eyes flicker down to his lips. 

They haven’t gone back down this path in years but they’ve been getting  _ so close _ lately. This has to be it…

Tessa exhales and shakes her head minutely before leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Charmer,” she says as she gets up, announcing that she needs to get ribbon for the girls’ crowns.

Looking at the flowers left on the counter, he would swear they wilt just a little.

—

Scott arrives earlier than he normally would but it’s hard to stop himself when just yesterday Tessa kissed him straight on the lips. The lips! He’s fairly certain he hasn’t stopped smiling since Tessa had murmured goodnight against his mouth, her hand curled into his jacket. He mostly doubts that Tessa is up yet since it’s just nearing nine am but he comes with coffee and pastries and the morning paper. He lets himself in, heads to the kitchen to put his goodies down, surprised and cautious when he sees the back door open.

Taking a step closer, he manages to see Tessa outside in her garden, allowing him to relax now that he knows no one broke in. It’s an unusually sunny morning for this late in October and, as such, Tessa has her oversized sun hat on. He has to admit that she looks just as crazy as she does beautiful. Feet shoved in rain boots, nightgown fluttering around her legs, and puffy coat wrapped around her torso, Tessa stares down at her pumpkins. They’re not quite as large as they normally are and Scott wonders if she’s disappointed.

He wants to go out and wrap her up in a hug but he stays back for a second longer just so he can take her in. It could be his own rose colored glasses on but he thinks she’s looks better today than she did yesterday, lighter almost. Work had been bogging her down all week and last night he made her dinner and made her laugh and she  _ kissed  _ him. God, he wants to kiss her again. He hopes she’ll let him.

He is so wrapped up in staring at Tessa that he almost doesn’t notice the pumpkins start growing suddenly.

Scott blinks hard, rubs at his eyes too. He knows he’s been walking on cloud nine since he left here but surely his vision is playing tricks on him. Each time his vision clears, the pumpkins still grow larger and larger. It’s like something out of a movie.

A handful of them stop once they’re normal sized but one keeps growing until it threatens to crush some of the smaller nearby gourds and that’s when it finally stops. It looks like one of the ones Tessa would enter into festivals when they were younger. 

He looks wildly between the pumpkins and Tessa, manages to see the smile stretching her cheeks from beneath the brim of her sunhat, watches as she laughs raises her arms towards the pumpkins. Her fingers twist and two of the smaller pumpkins get bigger.

She steps forward and when she comes to the first pumpkin, it looks as though the stem breaks itself from the vine… like it was ready to be taken into Tessa’s hands.

With the orange pumpkin pressed to her stomach, Tessa turns to head back up the steps. Except she sees Scott and he knows he must look crazed now. “Hi,” she says, careful and measured in just the one syllable. “I didn’t know you were stopping by this morning.”

“What  _ was _ that?” Tessa leans her head back, allowing the both of them to see eachother properly, though the rim of her hat still casts shadows on her eyes. She arches an eyebrow at him, face the picture of innocence. He’d fall for it if he hadn’t known her for more than half his life.

“I was just picking one of the pumpkins so that my mom c-“

He shakes his head and sputters out, “they grew!”

Tessa snorts and moves the pumpkin to rest in the curve of her hip. “Yeah, that’s kind of how plants work, Scott.”

“I saw them,” he exclaims. “Growing like, like… like you were blowing up balloons!”

There’s a flicker that crosses over her features before Tessa rolls her eyes. “Is there whiskey in that cup of yours,” she tosses back. She clomps up the steps in her boots, pumpkin still nestled in her side. She makes a big show of smelling him once she gets at his level which only replaces his shock with irritation.

“I am not drunk  _ or _ crazy,” he asserts, even though he feels as though he might be. He cannot think of any reasonable explanation for what he just witnessed but he still knows what he saw. “Your pumpkins weren’t that big yesterday.” He flips up the brim of her sunhat only to find her staring back at him, eyes hard and a deeper green than he usually sees.

“So what’s the explanation then, Scott?  _ Magic _ ?” She spits the last word out, seems so outrageously upset that he actually takes a step back. This whole situation is strange,  _ beyond _ weird actually, but the anger and hurt rolling off of Tessa seems almost extreme.

Scott considers for a moment that maybe his own reaction is a little much too. 

Before he can figure out how to de escalate things, Tessa is brushing past him into the house and slamming her back foot behind her. Scott is left out in the cold with no idea how he went from kissing Tessa twelve hours ago to being left behind in her back yard.

—

Tessa is nine and he is eleven when Tessa, very calmly and matter of fact, tells him she is a witch.

They’re in his basement, glasses of chocolate milk and a plate of cookies between them on the couch. The TV shows the credits of the Mary Kate and Ashley Halloween movie Tessa wanted to watch (it had been annoyingly good) and Scott isn’t sure whether to laugh or not. Tessa isn’t outwardly funny like he is and so this could just be her delivery of a joke for the season. He stares at her, trying to pick up any twitching in her cheeks that’ll give her away.

He finds nothing.

“Witches don’t exist,” is what he ends up saying and there’s a bit of a huff from him too, a casual eye roll when she asserts that  _ yes they do _ . “I think you’ve been watching too much Charmed with Jordan.”

Her eyebrows furrow, lips pinching to one side of her face. Her arms cross tight against her chest but when Scott looks closely, he can see the tears filling her eyes and the sadness settling in the green.

They don’t talk about it again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been 84 years and I truly apologize for that. I’m mostly unhappy with this but the wonderful ladies of the GC have assured me it’s not crap. I definitely would recommend rereading chapter 1, I certainly had to.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tessa has always known she was a witch.

It’s not something she ever remembers being told but she  _ does _ remember her mom telling her that not everyone could know. “People don’t always understand,” she said gently when Tessa was seven and leaving the age where saying fantastical things was thought of as cute. “So you can only tell people you  _ really _ care about. People you  _ trust _ .”

At nine she told Scott and he didn’t believe her. Told her she didn’t exist.

She never told anyone else after that.

—

Her nana works with her to control her powers. It’s harder than she expects because while Tessa knows how to control her emotions, to hide them or to put them on display, her plants don’t lie.

When Tessa gets a bad grade, the pomegranate tree in the backyard withers, the fruit dropping to the ground, moldy and spoiled. When her dad tells her that she has to miss dance practice because Jordan and Casey and Kevin are needed on the other side of town, the flowers in the house wilt. When Scott upsets her, there’s massive overgrowth followed by instant shriveling.

She doesn’t notice it, not at first. Neither does her mom. But her nana…

“Do you love Scott,” she asks Tessa one day while they’re sitting in her nana’s garden.

She loves her nana, feels so close to her that Tessa doesn’t go a day without talking to her, but her hands start to sweat at the idea of telling her about Scott.

(What grandmother wants to hear is this: Scott makes her laugh so hard that she bowls over, Scott helps explain math to her in a way she actually understands, Scott isn’t afraid to rough house with her like he always has, Scott holds her hand when she needs it, she looks at Scott sometimes and gets slick in her panties.)

Tessa leans back on her haunches, wipes the sweat away from her forehead with a dirty hand. “I’m fourteen.”

Her nana puts her hands on her hips. Tessa isn’t sure if it’s because her nana is standing in front of the sun or if her aura is just that bright right now, but she has to squint just to look at her. “And what does that have to do with what I asked you?”

Scott is her best friend but sometimes he’s a jerk. Because for all the good stuff he does he also does this: yells at her when he gets irritated with his stupid friends or when he loses a game of hockey, looks at her like she’s strange when she presses a kiss to the leaves of her plants, asks her when she’s going to stop spending so much time in her garden.

Sometimes she doesn’t like him very much.

She tells her nana this and Tessa can’t read her. Her stomach flips. The flowers she’s been growing slowly stutter and stunt and her nana rolls her eyes a little as she kneels next to Tessa. “Stop that.” She takes Tessa’s hand in her own, strokes Tessa’s hand softly. “My dear,” she starts, “it’s okay to feel both.” 

Tessa furrows her brow. “Nana, you said you wouldn’t peek,” she says, finger tapping her temple.

Her nana looks offended. “I have never and  _ will _ never,” she assures Tessa. “You were thinking so loudly. I’d have to leave the house if I didn’t want to hear you.” Tessa sighs. Thank goodness her mother’s powers lie in the kitchen. Tessa doesn’t know what she would do if her mom was an empath too. Probably die from embarrassment. “Scott makes you stronger than you already are.”

She fights against rolling her eyes. Scott may make her stronger but doesn’t her nana see how dangerous that is? Tessa has barely begun to get a grip on her powers as it is that the thought of them increasing while she still isn’t completely in control… She shivers at the thought of it. She doesn’t take her gifts lightly. She knows it makes her special. To give up some of that power to the sway of her emotions is a little disgusting if she’s being honest with herself.

“I think I do pretty good on my own,” Tessa grumbles, eyes kept down on the dirt beneath her. She looks at her flowers which have been foiled by the emotions swirling through her. Even if Scott makes her powers more vibrant, look at what the result is. She doesn’t want to kill her creations.

Her nana lifts her chin with her fingertips, waits patiently for Tessa to meet her eyes. “You are a goddess, Tessa. You are  _ brilliant _ on your own.”

—

Scott lets out a long, low whistle as he walks into the backyard from the open gate. Kevin must not have latched it when he left earlier. Or maybe Scott jumped it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“T, I don’t know how you do it,” he calls. She looks over to find him grinning, eyes wrinkled in the corner his smile is so big. He smells like sunscreen and the laundry soap Alma uses. “Are these all for the contest?”

She blocks his view so she can’t see the watermelon release from the vine when she touches it. “Yep,” she answers as she stands back up. “Think they’ll regret using them when they see how big they are?”

Her mom has warned her to keep them a decent size but Tessa couldn’t help herself. Besides, it’s much more of a challenge and a contest if people have to eat  _ a lot _ of watermelon. 

Scott slings an arm around her shoulders, pulls her in close as he raps a knuckle on the watermelon in her hands. “Well, Ma’s the one who asked you and you could never upset her. Even if you tried.” Tessa rolls her eyes but Scott keeps her close. “I’m surprised you’re not entering the contest this year.”

Her head falls to his shoulder and she eyes the watermelon near the fence, covered by vines. She had intended to grow that one into a behemoth but two nights ago, Scott kissed her neck and when she went into the garden the next morning, it had grown to its current size without her doing anything. “I thought I’d give the competition a chance,” she says after she clears her throat. “Here, hold this. I have one for you to take home.”

Alma cuts it up later that night and Tessa is over for dinner like she is half the week during summers. Everyone tells her it’s great but Scott takes it a step further. “This is the  _ best _ watermelon I’ve ever tasted,” he gushes. Danny and Charlie exchange a look. Scott takes another big bite from the wedge in his hand and Tessa watches the juice drip down his chin, follows a droplet down his fingers and wrist. “It’s so sweet and juicy.” His mouth is half full and he closes his eyes, even moans a little.

“Maybe Ma should’ve cut a hole in it for you, eh, Scotty,” Danny razzes from the other end of the table. Scott flips him off, Alma yells at them both, and Tessa hopes no one notices her blush.

—

Tessa hates living in dorms. She misses her garden, misses the feel of the dirt beneath her nails, misses flexing her powers at her whim.

She’s trying not to be  _ that _ roommate so she doesn’t fill her room with potted plants even though that’s what her mom had thought she was going to do. She settles for a little aloe plant that she keeps on the window ledge above her bed and she keeps flowers in a vase on her desk. Tessa takes flowers from her mom’s every time she’s home but there are weeks where she just can’t get home and she refuses to buy flowers from a store.

She goes out sometime around four am, sleep rumpled and tired. But she knows that the campus is empty then and she’s able to go around to the back of her building to a little patch of grass. She sinks her hands into the dirt, lazy smile on her face as five daisies grow strong and proud from the soil.

In her room, she throws out the arrangement she’s grown tired of. Scott snores from her bed.

She wants to go back to sleep. She should go back to sleep. She hates mornings.

But Scott looks so beautiful and there has been so much between them lately. It’s been so hard to contain, too. Her nana had called her laughing last week. “My garden is overgrown,” she said around a cough. “And my flowers are so vibrant. What’re you getting up to down there?”

Tessa crawls into bed, relishes in the way Scott pulls her to his chest. He’s so warm. She presses a kiss to the underside of his chin and his hand digs into the skin, low on her back.

When they fuck, the daisies multiply. Their sweet aroma nearly drowns out the scent of sweat and sex. She’s never noticed controlling more than plants but when she cums, cunt clenching tight around his cock, she would swear the sun is blinding.

The entire drive home later that day, she thinks about what it would be like to act on the love she feels for Scott, to actually  _ be _ with him instead of eternally toeing this line of something more. She’s not strong enough yet but that’s hard to remember when his hand is heavy and warm on her thigh and his eyes shine the same color as the bearded irises she grew during the fall.

There is one other small matter to attend to. “Where’s Jess this break?”

Scott’s hand squeezes the flesh of her thigh and shrugs. “Dunno,” he says. “And I don’t really care at the moment.” He turns to catch her eye, throws her a smile that looks exactly like the one he wore when she kissed him this morning, before refocusing on the road.

God, she wants him. Wants every little piece of him. She really should just get over herself and make the leap. It’s not as if Scott isn’t twisted up in her as it is. 

(And if there’s a small, nagging voice in the back of her head that sounds an awful lot like prepubescent Scott saying  _ witches don’t exist _ , well, Tessa’s still drunk enough off her last orgasm to block it out.)

She leans into it. The entire week they are by each other’s side. He takes her to her nana’s (rearranges the living room for her which was requested, in part, so Tessa could shrink the garden back to something more manageable), she follows him home (spends the night yelling goodnaturedly about ice dancing with his parents before falling asleep in his childhood bedroom). They take a day trip up to the cottage and fuck the entire time and don’t get dressed and the plants have never been so beautiful around the house. 

On the day before they’re due to drive home, her siblings come home and her dad insists on a family dinner and before Tessa even sits down at the table, he announces the divorce.

—

She spends almost all of winter break at the Moirs.

The holidays don’t feel the same at her house anymore. The decorations are subdued but her mom is happy, their tree is real for the first time since she still believed in Santa but her dad is gone.

Tessa hates it.

But the Moir house is exactly the same. It’s bursting with Christmas cheer and laughter, smiles and the most amazing smells. Alma never makes her feel like she’s overstaying or is any inconvenience (which is a lot more than she could say about her own father) and Joe always asks about her plans for the day when they eat breakfast (which is a lot more than she could say about her mom as of late).

She does little things in thanks. When they all go to pick out a Christmas tree, Tessa makes sure each one Alma is drawn to is equally full on both sides and she helps weaken the trunk so that Danny doesn’t have to lay in the snow long to cut it down. She strings popcorn because Scott hates to and keeps some cookie dough hidden in the back of the fridge for Charlie. She crafts wreaths and centerpieces for Alma  _ and  _ Carol, springs up some delicious herbs for Christmas Eve dinner. When Scott’s girlfriend comes over that night, she already plans to go to her mom’s because she knows how Scott’s significant others can be.

“You’re not staying for dinner,” he asks.

She’s already halfway bundled up, scarf looped around her neck enough times that it hides the bottom half of her face. “You’ve already got a lot of company.” She picks her coat off the hook. “Plus I  _ should _ see my mom at some point.” He frowns but before he can say any more, his girlfriend calls from the other room. With a small smile, Tessa puts her coat on. “I’ll be back to bug you tomorrow, don’t worry.”

His girlfriend yells for him again and he ignores her completely. Instead he looks out the window on the door. He frowns. “I could drive you. It’s coming down pretty steady out there.”

It’s not so bad that she can’t manage it herself. She has to admit, having Scott drive her would be nice though. But if he drives her, he’ll miss out on the games they always play on Christmas Eve and he’ll get to dinner late and his girlfriend would probably be cross with him. Besides, Tessa isn't sure she wants Scott to see all the differences in her house. He hasn’t questioned once why she’s been sleeping every night in either the basement or his bed. She doesn’t want him to start pitying her.

“No, it’s okay. I have to pick up Nana, too.” That sets his mouth into an even harsher frown and a wrinkle appears between his eyebrows. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. Thinking on her feet, Tessa adds, “She’s been sick and you’d make her feel awful if she gave you her germs.” It’s not a lie. Her nana has been coughing quite a lot lately but Tessa is fairly certain it’s because her nana has taken up smoking. Again.

Scott concedes, shoulders dropping. “Okay.” He pulls her into a tight hug. “But text me when you get home please, so I know you made it safe.” She lets him know that she will and by the time he’s putting her toque on her head, he’s smiling.

It confuses her, how sad she starts to feel the further she drives away from Ilderton, but Tessa doesn’t want to think about why.

—

“I don’t think it makes you seem like the favorite, Tess.” His voice is at once muffled and amplified due to his torso being in the attic. “Besides, everyone else got money.”

Tessa chews on her bottom lip absentmindedly, both hands on the rickety pull down ladder. She’s not entirely sure why she’s holding it. At worst, it’ll collapse from age and so holding it won’t do much in the way of protecting Scott. “It’s just-”

Scott bends and then his head pops back down. “Have your brothers or Jordan said anything?” When she doesn’t say anything, he nods. “See? So stop worrying about it and enjoy the fact that you got a house.”

Tessa sighs. “It still doesn’t feel right.” It’s been six months since her nana passed and the house that Tessa has known all her life is now hers. Most of her nana’s things have been spread out over Canada, with friends and family getting what they’d like and other things being donated. The few keepsakes that have been left are currently being arranged in the attic thanks to Scott. It feels strange to be changing the house that she still struggles to think of as her own but her nana has been insistent. She’s crossed the hedge every night this week, telling Tessa to stop letting the house sit empty and to live in it already.

Of course, she can’t exactly tell Scott that.

Scott climbs down and she cringes at the cobwebs sticking to his shirt. Rounding the ladder, Tessa does her best to dust him off. He amuses her for a few moments but then his hand is circling her wrist and holding it to his chest. “Hey.” She pulls the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it. He noses at her forehead until she looks up and she laughs when he pokes at her lip so she’ll stop chewing on it. “Your nana left you this house because she was going to haunt this place until someone like you was here to take over that garden.”

He’s not wrong.

“I still feel like I shouldn’t change anything,” she says later. The conversation had been dropped as they finished packing things into the attic but now that they’re at the small kitchen cart eating sandwiches Scott fixed for them, she thinks to bring it up. “Like it would be disrespectful. I don’t want to erase her so I don’t think I can make this  _ my _ home.”

Again, she knows her nana doesn’t think that way, has actively been telling her to tear the whole house down if she wants, but she still can’t help but feel strange about it.

Scott nods. He wipes his mouth with a napkin then balls it up in his fist, looking around the kitchen. “You need somewhere you can do up your flowers,” he says seriously. “A big kitchen island maybe.” He bumps her shoulder and looks at her with a wry grin. “Only for flowers. Never for cooking.”

She rolls her eyes and sticks her crust into his mouth. “And where would I put this big kitchen island? I’m not exactly drowning in space.”

He hums, taps a finger to his chin. “You could convert the garage.” He nods. “Yeah, it’s not like you use the garage for much…” Scott moves to dig around in her junk drawer, pulls out a big piece of paper that probably isn’t important. Still, when he smoothes it flat, blank side up, and takes a pencil to it, she prickles, worries it could be a receipt she’ll end up needing. The pencil moves, sure and steady, graphite left in the wake of Scott’s movements. A box appears and then another and another. Everything seems so abstract as she looks down at it until Scott puts the pencil down.

Hands on her biceps, he encourages her to stand then guides her in front of him, the paper properly in front of her. She sees it then, what he’s created. “ _ This _ could be your new and improved kitchen slash living area.”

Tessa takes in the seating he’s added, space for a TV or bookshelves. She’s not terribly sure she needs an extra living space if it means getting rid of the garage but, then again, there’s nothing in the garage that can’t be moved to the shed at the edge of the property. It might be nice, too, to have a space that’s new that could feel like  _ hers _ . A compromise of sorts, letting her keep the living room of her nana’s that she has so many fond memories in while also creating a space for new memories.

An oversized island sits in the middle of the kitchen, complete with a sink so she wouldn’t have to take her trimmings far. She starts to imagine all the storage she could have too, below an island that big. Space for all her vases (right now they’re tucked all around the house, wherever there’s free space) and her shears and gloves, her twine and ribbons, jars and mortar and pedestals. Not to mention she could tuck in some of the books she’s acquired over the years, the ones that have always been carefully hidden from all eyes but her own, their titles and subject matter much too witchy to sit on her bookcases.

There’s some rearranging of other stuff in the kitchen too, like the stove and the fridge, but she cares much less about that. She actually says that outloud and Scott slings an arm across her chest, laughs beautifully in her ear.

“This looks amazing, Scott.” She brings her hands up to his forearm and gives him a solid squeeze.

“Think you can handle changing this much,” he asks and she can feel him start to back away but she keeps him close, leans a little of her weight on him.

“Will you help build it?”

He presses a kiss against her temple. “Of course.”

—

At the cottage, Kevin very quietly announces that he’s certain he’s found the one.

Casey knocks his shoulder with his own on his way to the bathroom, Jordan mutters under her breath but there’s a smile on her face, and her mom looks shockingly emotional. Tessa, being the closest to her brother, wraps him in a hug. “Have you told her,” she asks. 

He nods and holds onto Tessa even tighter. They’ve always been close if for no other reason than the fact that they’re the only two to have powers, but it is strange to feel the emotion coming off Kevin in waves. He feels joyous. “I know it’s early but-”

Tessa pulls back and shakes her head when she locks eyes with her brother. “You can  _ feel _ it, I know you can.” He gives her an almost bashful nod. It’s enough to make her laugh lightly, the sound not bursting from her body as it normally would around her family. Kevin doesn’t comment on it, too happy and, with their mom coming up to pull him into a hug, too distracted. All for the better. Tessa doesn’t want to talk about it anyway.

That night, sleep doesn’t come. She tosses and turns for hours, listens to the wind pick up outside and the rain start falling in sheets. 

She’s  _ so _ happy for her brother. He deserves to be happy but she’s so jealous of how easy this is for him. It’s always been easier for him. At first, Tessa thought it was due to his premonitions, his visions granting him a certain level of security. But things change and what he sees doesn’t always pertain to his life.

She had asked him once if he ever saw her future and the only thing he told her was that she’d be okay.

Good to know, but not exactly comforting.

Tessa slips from beneath her blankets to look out the window. The rain is still coming down hard, has been for the past few hours. Without bothering with shoes or a coat, Tessa makes her way downstairs and out onto the deck. She’s soaked in an instant, sleep shirt clinging to her skin, hair sticking to her neck and face. She should be cold but she’s not. She feels like she can breathe for the first time since Kevin’s announcement.

She walks out further, wanting to feel the sand and rocks beneath her feet.

When Tessa was a little girl, she asked her nana if grandpa knew about her powers. He didn’t, and Tessa remembers being so sad about the fact, thinking maybe that’s why they weren’t married anymore. But then her parents divorced and her dad  _ did _ know about her mom’s powers. It seemed Tessa was damned either way, whether she told any significant others the truth or not. She never even tried to tell anyone other than Scott (though he never truly fell in the category of boyfriend) but hiding such a big part of herself felt stifling, choking relationships before they ever had a chance to truly blossom.

She should ask Kevin what his secret is, have him explain how he’s managed to make it all this time in relationships where he’s hidden part of himself and still be happy. Tessa’s feet sink into the wet sand as the water from the lake laps angrily at the shore. 

Maybe there is no secret. Maybe Kevin was just as miserable as she is. 

“You’re still so young,” her mother keeps telling her and while Tessa knows that’s true, it doesn’t stop the ache of wanting to share her life with someone else now.

Thunder rumbles in the distance. Tessa takes off her shirt and wades into the water.

—

It’s been tense over at the Moir household the past few days, not that Tessa’s actually been over there. Scott’s anxiousness has been palpable even over text and her mom has relayed how fretful Alma’s been since last week when Tessa mentioned how she had to console Alma when she picked up her usual batch of veggies and herbs. Even Charlie, who Tessa ran into at the grocery and is decidedly the least emotional Moir brother, is out of sorts.

There’s a wildfire that’s coursing across Alberta and containment has been extremely slow going. While Danny’s wife and the baby had gone to stay with Tessa Two’s family, safe from the raging fires, Danny’s been fighting with his station day in and day out.

It’s being called the worst fire in recent memory.

She calls out from work that morning and then sets about gathering up everything she’ll need for her drive. In her favorite canvas bag, she throws some water bottles and granola, a baggie of carrot sticks, and three bananas. Once that’s set down next to her purse, she pulls open the doors leading to her garden. Earlier this week she nurtured her heather, cultivated cotton and henbane. She picks each in abundance, uses the skirt of her dress to hold it all until she gets back to the house. On her way up the back steps, she grabs her nana’s Heather broom, wanting to throw everything possible at this.

After pouring everything into a loose sack and tossing in a sieve and a bottle of rain water, Tessa tucks the broom under her arm and gathers her loot, rushing to the car.

She doesn’t stop until she’s halfway to Winnipeg to refuel and stretch her body. Altogether, it takes her nearly three days to make it to Alberta and even though when she reaches the border she is beyond tired and in desperate need of a bathroom, she pushes on, risking a UTI with how long she’s been holding her bladder, not stopping until she reaches Calgary. She needs to get as close to the fires as she can…

There’s a text from Scott on her phone, a voicemail from her mom too, message left when she had decided to keep belting Bohemian Rhapsody over picking up. Tessa shivers. Scott would- No,  _ all  _ the Moirs would kill her if they knew she was driving  _ towards _ the fires that have been engulfing their thoughts and hearts since it started. Her mother might be a little more understanding but Tessa knows that she’s likely in for a talk when Kate realizes she’s gone.

The race into the first Tim’s she sees is truly a race but Tessa feels a lot better once she uses the bathroom and gets a large coffee. She doesn’t bother freshening up (though she knows she could do with taking a face wipe to her T zone) and gets back in her car, continuing on until she reaches Danny’s house.

It’s not until she parks that she realizes how dark the sky is, how hazy the air even though she’s a hundred kilometers out from the fire. It’s almost like driving through a fog but Tessa knows it’s just smoke laying thick over the city. Her lungs ache just being in her car and the most peculiar feeling rushes under her skin. It feels something like sadness but she knows it’s not her own. She rubs her hands over her forearms, tries to get rid of the goosebumps that have taken residence on her skin but it doesn’t work. This hasn’t ever happened to her before and it makes her nervous, especially when her chest seems to start aching too. 

She brings her mom’s number up on her phone and, while it rings, takes two gulps of water. Maybe the caffeine is messing with her stomach. She hasn’t had much to eat today outside of timbits. “Hello, Love,” Kate answers, cheerful in a way Tessa hasn’t heard since the divorce. “I made up some pies and wanted to drop one off for you.”

“I don’t feel good,” Tessa murmurs.

She can hear Kate’s frown. “Do you want me to bring you some soup? Pick you up some-”

Before her mom can continue, Tessa blurts, “I’m in Alberta.”

Kate is silent for exactly five seconds. “Tessa,” she starts, her name careful and measured on Kate’s tongue. “Why are you in Alberta?”

Tessa worries her lip for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I came to help with the fires.”

“ _ Tessa _ .” Her name is clipped as it comes out of her mother’s mouth, a sigh hot on its heels. “Something tells me you’re not joining a volunteer firefighter program.”

“I tried doing spells from home,” she says, quick to explain why she’s come all this way. “But it was just making  _ London _ rainy. I needed to be here.”

“Wildfires are common, Tessa. You can’t put your life on hold to go and save the world,” her mother reminds her. 

She clutches her phone a little tighter. “But it’s Danny, Mom.” Kate stays quiet and then Tessa is taking another breath. “It’s so awful here… and they’re all hands on deck. What if something happens to him?” Tessa doesn’t know if this will work, she’s never attempted magic on this large of a scale, but she’d never forgive herself if something happens to Danny and she didn’t at least try.

A sigh comes from Kate again but this one is softer and Tessa knows that she’s won her mom over. “What do you mean you don’t feel well? Have you got a mask on? The air must be awful.”

“It started in the car, just before I called you,” Tessa explains. “I just feel…” she rolls her eyes at herself. “I feel  _ sad _ ? But all over, under my skin. I know it doesn’t make sen-“

“It’s the fires, my love,” Kate says. “You’re feeling everything dying.”

That can’t be right. “But I’ve burned things before. I’ve been around accidental fires.”

“How close are you to the fires, Tess?” Her silence is a loud enough answer. “This isn’t something small or something that started to begin a cycle of rebirth. Sure, that’ll come, but right now, my best guess is that you’re feeling all those plants and trees going.” This wasn’t something she ever considered. She knows how strong her connection is to the earth, to every plant she touches, but she had never thought about how their energy could affect her. Tessa rubs at her chest, nails scratching at the skin below her collarbone until it’s red and raw. “You’ve got to be quick,” Kate says. “It’s not good for you there. Not  _ safe _ . Understand?”

Her mother has never been particularly strict with her but there is a firmness in her voice that makes Tessa straighten in her seat. “Of course.” 

With a promise to call as soon as she’s back on the road, Tessa hangs up. She’s only been to Danny’s house twice but all Moirs tend to be the same.

She raises to her tiptoes and finds the latch on the gate unlocked, smile stretching her cheeks despite how awful she feels. It’s something she would bet money on, how consistent the Moirs are.

Guilt raises within her when she starts a small fire in an empty pot but she reminds herself that this is a means to an end. Hopefully. 

With the flames going, she reaches into her sack and pulls out the cotton and heather, tosses them into the fire one at a time, watching intently as they crackle and burn. Once they’re gone, Tessa grabs her nana’s heather broom and makes her way down to the stream at the edge of Danny’s property. She wades in until the water nearly reaches her knees before swirling the end of the broom in the current. After three, wide circles, Tessa brings the broom above her head swiftly, water flinging from the dried heather and raining back down to the earth. She is determined to do this until her arms are sore. With each pass over her head, she calls out for a flood from the sky, for the winds to die down, for the life here to escape the flames. She visualizes the rain, sees it come down in sheets with fat, heavy droplets. She visualizes how cold it will feel, how cleansing. She thinks of the green that could emerge from the scorched earth if only this fire would stop  _ now _ .

On the fourth casting, Tessa looks up to see the sky growing darker than before. The humming beneath her skin starts to fade, an electric feeling replacing it.

Rain comes down in the blink of an eye. Exactly as Tessa had imagined it.  _ Willed _ it. 

She laughs, loud and unrestrained, in the middle of the stream, her neck tilted so that the rain can coat her face. She’s never managed something to this scale on her own before. It’s crazy and amazing and she’s so incredibly thankful that she managed to pull this off when she needed it.

The drive back to London is slower for her own sanity but she manages to keep up to date on the fires as she makes her way back home. The storm rages on, even as she gets further and further away. She lets out a thankful sigh with each news flash. She was worried that it would only last while she was in the area.

Scott calls her somewhere near Regina, bursting with relief and excitement. “Have you seen, Tess? 98% containment!” He sounds like his old self again. She can hear Alma in the background too, crying, but it’s decidedly happier than when she had sobbed into Tessa’s shoulder.

“I saw,” Tessa says, warmth filling her from the inside out. “Have you heard from Danny?”

For the next 80 kilometers, Scott keeps her company.

—

“Gotcha something.”

Tessa looks up from her tomato plants, only for her sunhat to get in the way. Scott laughs lightly. “Why don’t you get a hat that  _ won’t  _ blind you half the time,” he asks once she’s looking at him.

She rolls her eyes beneath her sunglasses. “Because I like this hat.” Scott’s holding something behind his back. “What’ve you got?”

One hand comes into view, finger wagging in her direction. “Is that any way to-”

Tessa uses her hat to hit his knee. “Out with it. I have to go to my mom’s soon.”

“Jeez,” he mutters as he rubs at his knee. “Here.” He holds out a packet of seeds.  _ Bleeding hearts _ , something Tessa has only ever read about but never seen in person. “I saw these at Home Depot and realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen you grow anything like them.” She has to fight to suppress a smirk. There is no way he just stumbled upon them. She feels a little bad for hitting him now. Once the packet is in her hand, he scratches behind his ear. “I’m realizing now that maybe they don’t grow too well here but…” he shrugs.

“They don’t, actually,” Tessa says. “But I’m always up for a challenge.” He relaxes a little at that, warm smile beaming down at her. She gets up, dusting dirt from her hands, and pulls him into a hug. “Thank you.” He squeezes her tight, arms linked around her waist, palms flat against the expanse of her back.

Tessa can feel the seeds sprout in the packaging.

—

Work sucked.

It seemed that everything that could go wrong did no matter how hard Tessa tried to stop them before they began. As it stands, she wants to do nothing more than to strip down to her dressing gown and drink half a bottle of wine in her garden.

That is, if her garden managed to stand up to the cyclone of emotions whipping inside of her.

She’s already got her slacks unbuttoned, hair (which at the beginning of the day had been combed into a neat bun) down in wild waves over her shoulders when she spots Scott’s car parked in front of the house.

Normally she wouldn’t mind the company but today she just doesn’t want it.

She pulls into her driveway and reluctantly buttons her pants before making her way inside. It smells great when she opens the door, her stomach growling loud. “I was going to give you wine,” she mutters as she pats her stomach. It growls again, this time the ripple of hunger tangible, and Tessa sighs.

She makes quick work of hanging up her bag and sweater, lines her heels up next to Scott’s slip ons. There’s music coming from the kitchen, accompanying the hard sounds of Scott chopping at something. The polite thing to do would be to greet Scott, maybe subtly hint that she’s not up for company.

She does neither.

Upstairs, she strips out of her clothes and takes a moment to inspect her garden from her window. Nothing looks like it’s wilted or died. She sighs in relief. Her nana told her a few months ago that Tessa has a level of control in regards to her powers that she’s never had before but Tessa is still weary. She’s gotten too used to her garden going the minute she’s in a foul mood.

She shouldn’t stop moving because she knows she’ll be pressed to get up again, but the floor is so tempting, and she finds herself lying flat on her back in just her underwear. If she didn’t have to get rid of Scott, she probably would’ve drawn herself a bath.

“I know you’re up here,” Scott calls. He walks so light without his shoes on that Tessa can't tell how far down the hallway he is. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’m mostly naked,” she says in warning. It doesn’t stop him anymore than it stops her from walking in on him in the shower. He leans into the doorway, giving her the space she very much needs. “I’m in an awful mood. I won’t be good company tonight.”

He nods, sympathetic smile stretching his lips. “That’s okay. I’ll be out of your hair once the food is done.” 

She feels a little guilty, kicking him out even though she’s left it for him to decide if he stays or goes. They do end up eating together more often than not but rarely does he popover without checking her schedule first. Tessa props herself up on her elbows. “Do you have news?”

“Yeah, but it can wait,” Scott answers with a wave of his hand. “Do  _ you _ need to talk?”

She shrugs. “Work was shitty.” It doesn’t add up to anything more than that. “Tell me your news,” she insists, already pushing herself up so she’s sitting.

She thinks he’s going to decline sharing again but the most giddy smile she’s ever seen takes over. “I got the house.”

Tessa is on her feet faster than she thought possible. “You got the house,” she exclaims. “I thought they were still entertaining other offers!”

Scott shrugs, helpless to answer in any other way than laughing. “I got the call today. Guess the owners didn’t need anymore time.”

She wraps her arms tight around his neck, hugging him with all of her might. “I’m so happy for you!”

When he had first shown her the fixer upper he wanted to buy, she had been less than impressed. It seemed to her that it needed  _ too  _ much work and that the asking price was ridiculously steep given the state the house was in. But, just as he’d done with Tessa’s house, Scott showed her all the plans he had already drawn up, illustrated in black and white just how perfect the space could be until Tessa was helpless to fall in love with it too.

“This has completely fixed my mood,” she tells him honestly. He looks dubious when he pulls back. “It’s true! Oh, Scott, this is the best thing I’ve heard all day.” The timer on his phone goes off in his back pocket and Tessa wastes no time in shooing him downstairs. “Go finish dinner. I’ll throw on something and then get some of the good wine from the basement.”

He laughs and gives her a mock salute. “We’re having steak.”

She smiles. “My best red then,” she says with a firm nod.

They end up outside, eating at the table Tessa’s placed in the middle of her backyard. She hadn’t thrown on much more than her dressing gown, tying the belt tight around her waist, but Scott had insisted on putting his button up back on for dinner. “It may just be a robe, but it’s fancy as hell,” he said, fingers slipping against the silky fabric as he outlines one of the monstera leaves of the pattern. “You could tell me it’s a dress and I’d believe you.” 

She thinks they look ridiculous but it doesn’t matter. The setting sun brings a cool wind that plays with all her creations. Her belly is full of her most expensive wine and the best steak. Her heart and soul are warm with Scott’s company.

When she sleeps that night, Scott snoring down the hall from the guest room, she can only remember how great today was.

—

She knows it’s always been Scott. 

As much as she’s tried to deny it, to find love in other people or other things, it always comes back to Scott.

“I don’t understand why you won’t give that boy the time of day,” her nana complains one night.

Tessa rolls her eyes. “I see Scott almost every day.”

Her nana puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t be smart. You know that’s not what I mean.” She fixes Tess with a glare that reminds Tessa of when she was six and stole the last four strawberry wafer cookies.

Tessa sighs and brings her legs to her chest. It must soften something because her nana is beside her then, feather light touch on her shoulder. Not that she isn’t grateful to still have these moments, but she aches for when she could feel the weight of her nana’s presence. “What’s holding you back, dear? I know you love him and it’s clear he loves you.”

Bottom lip worrying between her teeth, Tessa flops onto her back. “What if it’s not enough?” She keeps her eyes shut until her nana flicks her lip. “Ow,” Tessa complains, rubbing at her mouth.

“Are you going to live your whole life only half happy just because you’re scared?” Her nana huffs and crosses her arms against her chest. “That is  _ not  _ how McCormick women live.”

Tessa forces herself awake.

—

She can’t shake a thing her nana said. 

It’s been months now and it’s easy enough to not think about it but it’s planted itself in her brain now, roots growing deeper and stronger with every passing day.

Tessa doesn’t consider herself half happy. She has her ups and downs just like anyone else, but Tessa is happy with her life. She doesn’t find herself lacking in any way. She has her family, her friends. She has work and her house and her garden. She takes trips when she likes and is lazy when the feeling strikes.

Most days she doesn’t feel a loss by not being in a relationship. Sure, more sex would be nice at times but she has plenty of orgasms, thank you very much. But all the other romantic stuff? She doesn’t notice the absence at all.

Which, she realizes abruptly as they’re walking out of the dessert diner he treated her to, is because she has Scott. 

“You okay,” he asks as she trips over her own foot. She smiles up at him, nodding.

They already act like a couple. Logically, she already knew this. Both of their siblings have teased them about it, her own mother looking at her pointedly whenever Tessa mentions that Scott spent the night. She always chalked it up to her inability to hide the crush she’s had on Scott for what seems like forever now, but it’s like she’s finally seeing everything for what it is. All the times he cooks for her, all the times she goes over to his house and cultivates a luscious garden. The fact that she always slept better whenever she knew Scott was in the house but how she always fell asleep so easy ever since Scott stayed in her bed instead of the guest room. The way they take their nieces out together for fun activities and are permanent fixtures at the other’s family gatherings. Their constant movie and dinner dates in the middle of the week, their lively drives to Toronto for Saturday Leafs games, their lazy Sunday mornings that she’s let him in on, enjoying his presence as she loses herself in her flowers.

She doesn’t feel half happy because Scott is already there for everything. The only thing missing is reopening that physical part she closed off so many years ago.

Scott’s fingers drum on the steering in beat with the song playing on the radio. Tessa licks her lips. “Are you staying tonight?” She remembers him mentioning having to drop his parents’ off at the train early but it could be next weekend.

At the shake of his head, she tries not to sag in her seat. “I don’t want to wake you because I have to get over to mom’s so early.” His lips curl into a smile but she can see the regret in his eyes even in the dark like this. “But I’ll be over after.” His hand finds hers as he keeps his eyes on the road. He gives it a squeeze. “Wouldn’t want to ruin our outstanding Sunday morning ritual.”

Even though he’s not staying, he walks her to the door, holding the leftover popcorn she insisted they bring while she searches for her keys beneath all the napkins she smuggled from the movie theater. He hugs her, he kisses her forehead, Scott Moir’s standard goodbye when they’re due to part. It has always made her feel warm all the way down to her toes and tonight is no exception but it’s suddenly not enough. 

When he goes to walk back to his car, Tessa grabs him by his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric. She only gets a quick look at his confused expression because then she’s rising up and kissing him with everything she’s got.

She’d forgotten just how beautifully explosive kissing Scott could be.

His hands find her hips, pulls her closer and holds her tight, and he laughs as he pants against her lips. “What was that for?”

She lifts one shoulder as she gives him another peck. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He stays sitting in his truck for five minutes after she’s gone inside. It’s hard to see but Tessa’s sure he’s sitting there completely dumbfounded.

Once he heads for home, she makes her way upstairs.

Every vase in her house is overgrown.

—

She wakes up early the next morning.

How on earth did she think she’d be able to sleep once she kissed Scott? It’s absolutely all she can think about. 

She brews some tea from her own dried flowers and takes her time turning her arrangements into something respectable looking. Normally she wouldn’t bother considering she’ll be clipping new stems this afternoon, but she needs something to do  _ other _ than daydream about how fantastic today will be now that she’s kissed Scott.

She can’t stop thinking about it, thinking the words. She kissed Scott. She  _ kissed _ Scott. She kissed  _ Scott _ !

The sun is shining so brightly through her patio doors. It was supposed to be cloudy today.

Quick as she can, she bundles up just enough to not catch too much of a chill. “Hello,” she greets her garden. Everything perks up and she smiles as she helps each plant rise a little closer to the morning sun. She inspects every single flower, every leaf, every branch. Ideas for bouquets leap out and when she sees the bleeding hearts that have grown so strong, she immediately knows she’s going to fill her house with them.

She comes upon her little pumpkin patch and she doesn’t have to do much before they start swelling. She grins and raises her arms, fingers dancing in the cold air as the pumpkins grow even faster. It reminds her of Cinderella every time she does this. She starts humming Bippity Boppity Boo before she can stop herself.

Tessa leaves a few of the pumpkins normal sized, wanting the kids to have perfect carving pumpkins and her mom to make some pumpkin soup. “You’ll do,” she says fondly as she picks one of the pumpkins, it’s vine falling away gracefully.

She turns to walk back inside and then there’s Scott, standing on her porch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #takebackthetag


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, finally we have the final chapter. This is courtesy of Throwback week, which, admittedly, is cheating a little bit. This week was intended to revisit stories that have been completed but since it's been so long since I've updated this story, I thought it would be appreciated.
> 
> This week, I, and the rest of the Writer's Guild, implore all fic writers to revisit a work of yours, giving a deleted scene or a glimpse into the future. Let's bring some love and some life back to our tag!
> 
> Biggest thanks to my wife and to the girls of the Writer's Guild, especially awakeanddreaming, eastfromeden, and iwantthemtostay. I hope this last chapter lives up to the wait! Enjoy!

This morning is not going like he thought it would.

There is no respite between each fall of Scott’s knuckles to the glass door. He knocks consistently for a whole minute straight, until his hand is sore from the gesture and the cold. It doesn’t stop him though, as he simply switches hands to continue his incessant rapping.

He knows the door is unlocked. He also is well aware of the key he has to open Tessa’s front door. Scott will be damned though if he enters her house when he knows she doesn’t want him to.

There’s no sign of her in the den or the kitchen. The pumpkin she had been cradling is sitting alone on the island from what he can see, but Tessa has probably retreated upstairs and away from his knocking.

“Tessa,” he shouts. He takes a step back from the door so he can peer up at the second story. “Can we  _ talk _ please?”

Suddenly, The Eagles are crooning loudly from Tessa’s bedroom.

Scott steps off the porch and marches across the dewy grass until he can see her window clearly. “ _ Tessa Jane _ ,” he yells. His voice is no match for the music but he comes pretty close. The curtains move a bit. She must be watching him, even though he can’t see her. “We need to talk!”

Nothing.

His sigh comes out in the form of a small cloud. He brings his jacket around him tighter as he looks past the window and up at the sky. What had been a clear and warm morning is slowly turning into something colder. 

He debates leaving, giving Tessa the space she so clearly wants, but he doesn’t want her to have even the slightest doubt that he’s leaving because he doesn’t want to fight for her. Whatever is happening right now isn’t enough to send him away. After last night, knowing that Tessa is ready… he won’t give that up unless she tells him she changed her mind.

No, staying is what he’ll do. Staying until she tells him to go.

Scott walks over to Tessa’s pumpkin patch as Don Henley sings about a witchy woman. The pumpkins appear, for all intents and purposes, normal. He thumps the largest one with his finger, listening to the sound reverberate in the hollow gourd. It’s a brilliant orange, the thick, curled stem a deep green. Cautiously, Scott steps closer and lowers himself on to the pumpkin. Nothing happens, the pumpkin sturdy enough to support his weight easily.

He’s reminded of the one year he went as Linus from Peanuts and Tessa went as Sally. They were definitely too old to be trick or treating (he thinks he might’ve been a freshman and Tessa hadn’t skipped a grade just yet) but they went all the same, their moms insisting on taking pictures of them with the pumpkins after they came back with their candy loot. He remembers Tessa wanting to camp out among her pumpkins then and thinking that she’d freeze. Between him and Kate, they managed to convince Tessa to a living room camp out, complete with a cushion and sheet fort that Jim hadn’t been too happy with the next morning, though Scott thinks that might have been because he’d spent the night. That was the last time they were allowed to have sleepovers. 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Scott surveys the entire backyard. No matter the season, no matter the weather, it’s always in bloom, always vivid and lush and wonderful. He doesn’t know a lot about how to grow things, never had a need to look it up when he had Tessa, but maybe it is strange that everything grows so well all the time? He wonders if all of this stuff is even in season. Obviously the pumpkins are, he’s not an idiot, but he doesn’t know about the flowers or anything else. 

He pushes his palms into his eyes until he sees stars, racking his brain for anything that could help him make sense of this. Tessa’s words ring back, the word magic repeating over and over in his head. It’s crazy because magic doesn’t exist.

But he has no idea how to explain what he saw either other than saying it  _ was _ magic.

Scott really has no idea what to do, what to make of any of this. There is one thing he knows for certain though. He loves Tessa and he’s willing to sit out in her garden for the rest of his life if it means catching a glimpse of her every once in a while.

—

Tessa sits underneath her bedroom window, fingers rubbing at her temples so firmly that her nails leave little circles against her skin. She’s being ridiculous, can practically  _ hear _ her nana yelling it at her from beyond the hedge, but no amount of deep breathing is calming her down. There’s no logic in her mind, only the scar of a long past hurt being pulled open again on her heart. 

The plants in her room look like some sort of glitch. Vines and leaves grow at an outstanding rate from the clay pot she made in seventh grade, only to halt, wither, and shrink, bright shiny green fading into a sickly sort of cream. Just as fast as they die, they regenerate again until, after being subjected to the abuse three times, the leaves fall to the ground, unable to hold on in the wake of Tessa’s storm.

“I’m sorry,” she moans to her plants. It hurts to watch, mixes with the fear and pain taking root inside her. She closes her eyes so tight she sees stars.

“Will you stop pretending this is about what that boy said as a  _ child _ ?” Tessa opens her eyes to find her nana sitting at the foot of her bed. She looks almost mad that she’s here, irritated that Tessa needs this handholding. “I thought you were past this.”

She shrugs helplessly. “Well, we were wrong.” 

Her nana stands with a scoff. “Don’t you lie to me, Tessa Jane.” The curtains flutter as her nana looks down at the backyard. “Scott, get off the damn pumpkins.”

Tessa tilts her head. “He’s still out there?”

Hand on her hip, her nana looks down at her with a laugh that lacks any sort of humor. “You know he’ll follow you anywhere. Don’t act so surprised.”

She’s not sure her nana has ever been this big of a pain in her ass before. Part of Tessa wants to tell her to go, knows that she would if Tessa asked, but this suddenly feels like too much to bear on her own and she craves her nana’s guidance like she did as a child. Everything always made sense when her nana was there to cut through the bullshit for her.

It’s not lost on Tessa either that she’s old enough to do this on her own, to confront her feelings and act like an adult which means  _ talking  _ to Scott about her worries. “I wish this weren’t so hard,” Tessa grumbles.

Her nana helps her to her feet and pulls her into a hug that grounds Tessa. “It’s not hard, it’s scary,” her nana corrects. “But when we do the things that scare us…”

“We become stronger,” Tessa breathes out, the words coming so easily it’s as if she didn’t even think them first.

She can feel a smile pressed against her temple, a kiss coming once her nana pushes her hair from her forehead. “A sturdy stock is more important than any flower petal.” Her nana pulls back, the creases around her eyes magnified by her glasses and looking every bit as deep as they were when she first arrived. Her nana still means business, even if the rest of her features have softened. “Go on, Tess. You can do this.”

Tessa opens her eyes when the radio switches to another song. It’s as if the entire room exhales when she does. Her nana is gone and her plants have gone still. When she stands to look out the window herself, there’s Scott, just standing in the middle of her backyard, talking to himself. She can tell he’s shivering, his thin layers not good enough for the way she’s blocked him from the sun’s warmth. 

Curling her fingers on the window sill, she takes a deep breath, holds it in her chest. 

The sun emerges from behind the clouds and Tessa goes downstairs.

—

He’s made plans. He doesn’t know how logical any of these plans are, but it just felt like the right thing to do while he waits.

His first plan is to start shouting out all the reasons he loves Tessa. He’ll start from when they first met and work his way until now, list off every single thing she has done or said or just  _ is _ that has made him fall in love with her. He’ll even add that he loves what he  _ doesn’t  _ know about her because he knows that Tessa has parts that are just for herself and those are just as precious to him as all the things he does know.

However, he quickly decides against that plan. Neighbors could hear and Tessa is never one for a scene. She likes her privacy and he’d never want to deprive her of that.

His next plan is to just kiss her, to pour everything he has into that one action. But as quickly as that thought enters his head, he dismisses it. He would never just kiss Tessa unless he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wanted to be kissed by him.

The music changes to something else, a Fleetwood Mac song he thinks. It’s Stevie Nicks singing either way but he can never remember if this song is hers or theirs. Tessa would know, her mind like a steel trap when it comes to things like that. He’ll have to ask her. He hopes he has the chance to anyway.

Scott scoffs to himself, kicking at the bottom step of the porch. He’s being dramatic. He and Tessa have gotten through a lot together, navigated their way from childhood to puberty to adults, dealt with all of the challenges that came with that. This is just a bump (a bump that may turn out to be more hill or mountain shaped) and they’ll make it out the other side. They have to. He’s not sure what he’ll do with himself if they don’t. A terrifying, crazy thought occurs to him then, after he mourns prematurely of the loss of their easy dinners and fun weekends and the feel of her hand in his, his hair between his fingers, her body pressed into his side - the thought of Tessa never seeing his parents again, of him never seeing Tessa’s mom. As much as this will tear him up, Scott doesn’t think he can handle being responsible for the dissolution of the relationship they have with eachother’s families. 

Dropping onto the steps, elbows coming to his knees and face held in his hands, Scott lets out a long breath, his whole body deflating with the action. He can hear his mother now, asking what he’s done to upset Tessa. Usually, anytime she asked him that, he at least knew what he’d done, as much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it. As it is now, he’ll apologize for anything and everything, kneel at Tessa’s feet and have her list out every single one of his sins and ask for absolution if it means that she’ll grant him her hand, or hell, a smile. He’d give just about anything to have her smile at him again. Just thinking of how harsh her face was as she walked past him, how angry and hurt, makes a shiver run through him.

A small tap comes from behind him and Scott turns to see Tessa standing on the other side of the patio door, hand presses against the glass, index finger bent - the source of the noise. He can’t quite read her face, the reflection of the world outside obscuring it just enough that he can’t make out all the small tells he’s so well versed in. What he can see - fine lines at her mouth from where her lips are pursed and inching towards one side, eyebrow trying not to sit so low over her eyes, her chin lifted as if she’s daring him - has him clabbering to his feet, his shoulders going back as he stands as tall as he can. His chest if puffed with a faux confidence for only a moment before he realizes that he should not be preparing for war. Though he knows he will fight for her if she opens the door and tells him to leave, he needs to be the kind of man that Tessa deserves, one who is willing to be humbled, to admit his faults.

She opens the door and his mouth opens, apologies and proclamations on his tongue, both so eager to get out that he worries he’ll make an ass of himself by the time he says something, but then Tessa is shaking her head and his mouth snaps shut. “I’m going to speak and I want you to listen, please.” He nods because, of course. What else would he do? “Okay,” She exhales, nodding a little to herself as she moves out of the way, inviting him in. Before he can climb one step, her eyes flicker to her pumpkin patch. “Get your cup first. I won’t be picking up after you in my garden.”

Inside, Tessa’s sitting at the kitchen island he built her, the coffee he had brought steaming in front of her, sitting next to the oversized pain au chocolat he picked out just for her. She must have reheated her coffee and his nose wrinkles at the thought. He can never stand reheated coffee but it never seems to bother her. Then again, it’s not really about taste for Tessa but the jolt it gives her to make it through her mornings.

Using her foot, Tessa pushes the barstool back from the granite. There’s another plate on the counter in front of her, empty and clean, that gets slid in his direction once he sits. He makes sure to leave a wide enough breadth even though he’s aching to touch her. She deserves her space and he thinks that’s what she needs right now, can tell by how tight her shoulders are, like someone is squeezing them together. His coffee is so cold that part of it had turned to slush but he takes a sip of it anyway just to have something to do with his hands. Tessa must be able to hear it hit the sides of the cup because her nose wrinkles and she stands, going to flip on her coffee maker for him.

He expects her to sit back down only she stays by the coffee maker that begins to gurgle and hiss, her arms wrapped tight beneath her chest. “I love you,” she says suddenly. They’ve said it to eachother hundreds of times before in a hundred different ways. It’s different this time, he knows. She means it in the way he’s so desperately wanted to hear and it’s like she’s breathing life into him with her words. He wants to bask in it, to say it back, but her eyes look so sad, so scared, that his mouth stays shut even as his heart beats so hard he’s scared it’ll break through his chest. “But I just…” Tessa shakes her head as the coffee starts to fill the pot behind her. She starts busying herself, going to her cupboard and pulling out the mug he uses every Sunday morning. 

“Tessa.” He wants desperately to comfort her. She shakes her head quickly at her name and he falls silent again. 

“Do you remember when I told you I was a witch?”

Scott schools his reactions very well, if you were to ask him. What he wants to do is blink rapidly, to cock his head to the side, to ask what the hell she’s talking about. What he  _ does _ is furrow his eyebrows and brings his hand to his chin, letting his arm hold up the weight of his head. To be honest, he doesn’t remember. He debates lying, telling her that of course he does because it’s obvious this moment that escapes him has had a lasting impact on her. He can’t bring himself to be dishonest, not when it comes to her, not about something this serious. Regretfully, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

She nods and sighs. “I didn’t think so. We were little and you couldn’t have…” She rubs at her eyes as if she’s only just waking up, her fist opening as she goes to push her hair out of her face, tucking wayward strands behind her ear. The coffee drips to the hot plate below when Tessa pulls the pot out to fill his mug, an unusual move for her. He wonders if she’ll clean it the moment it cools or if she’ll do it now, quick and swift to minimize the burning of her fingertips.

The pot returns to the maker, sits on top of the dark liquid that Tessa doesn’t seem to notice. She puts the coffee in front of him and waits for him to take a grateful sip before she takes hold of the pumpkin left on her counter. “Will you tell me,” he asks softly. Her head lifts to look at him, eyes never leaving his face even as he knocks the mug against the plate he’s yet to fill.

For a moment, he thinks she’ll deny his request. She stares at him, green eyes guarded as they bore into him. But then she nods and her hands rub along the hard orange rind, like she’s trying to gear up to get the words out. “We were in the basement at your parents house. Your mom made us cookies and I convinced you to watch a Mary Kate and Ashley movie by offering you all the tootsie roll pops I got from trick or treating.”

He doesn’t want to interrupt her but - “you don’t like tootsie roll pops.”

The rest of her face is serious still but her lips quirk into a grin before she can stop them and Tessa rolls her lips around her teeth in an effort to dampen the smile. “It was a  _ very _ good deal on my end.”

There’s no containing his laughter. “Well, I deserved to be swindled if I couldn’t put two and two together.” There’s a small laugh from her then and it makes him feel a little easier. “How old were we?”

“Nine and eleven.” 

“What an idiot I was,” he says and Tessa nods seriously at that.

“You couldn’t have known, but.” She shrugs. “I told you I was a witch and you said they didn’t exist. You made me feel crazy.” Another shrug as her hands go from the pumpkin to the countertop, her hands flat, fingers spread out along the polished surface. “I should’ve shown you. I just… I thought you’d believe me. Even though I knew witches were considered make believe, scary stories to tell kids, I thought it would be different coming from me.”

He needs her to say it because turning it over in his head makes him feel crazy.  _ Tessa is a witch _ sounds exactly as logical as  _ Tessa could cook a perfect steak _ in that it is near impossible that it could be true. 

He tried to remember then all the things he never used to think were true either. As a child he was convinced that his G Mac  _ always _ had candy in his pockets because Scott had never known his grandpa to not have a treat for him. Scott believed until he was eight years old that macaroni and cheese was actually pronounced without the M. When he was fourteen, Charlie convinced him that everyone knew when he masturbated to the point that Scott just ignored his penis for that entire year until he took sex Ed. He thinks of learning advanced mathematics, how things never made sense until he learned the right equation that would solve the puzzle. He remembers believing in the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, and Santa with the utmost fever, never once believing the kids who would say they were make believe.

Why wouldn’t he believe Tessa, who has never lied to him once, when she says she’s a witch?

He watches Tessa take a deep breath, watches the way her whole frame swells up with strength, even as her body is still mostly shapeless due to her nightgown and robe. Should he save her the trouble? Should he say it aloud for her so that she knows she needn’t keep her guard up? At the same time it feels a little like he shouldn’t take this from her, shouldn’t take the words that she’s held so close to her heart for so long, words that he’s tarnished before.

He settles for what he hopes is a happy medium, allowing her her agency while also letting her know that it’s okay. “Are pumpkins even in  _ season _ or is that all you?” He knows, of course, that it is the season for pumpkins. They wouldn’t be a Halloween staple if they weren’t. But it makes Tessa laugh and Scott counts it as a win.

She sobers up, relaxes against the counter, and slinks forward to rest her forearms on the island, her hands close enough that they could touch. “I’m a witch,” she says, her voice proud and full of conviction. Her eyes are so vibrant, so intense that his breath catches in his throat. 

He nods. “Okay.” It feels so wonderful to be trusted with this piece of her that he smiles, his face warming with the love he feels bursting through him for this woman he’s known nearly his entire life.

“That’s it?” She’s smiling too but she looks surprised as she stands back up, loose as she makes her way to the seat she abandoned. “No questions?”

He scoffs, “I have  _ so _ many questions, but I don’t need answers now.” Tentatively, he reaches out, pushing her hair behind her shoulders, the strands silky soft against his fingers. “We have time, don’t we?”

Tessa swallows hard, her body growing tight once more. He can feel her sway minutely, as if she can’t decide whether or not she should lean into his touch or shy away from it. “What if,” she starts, no louder than a whisper. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye and then shakes her head to herself, turning so she can face him fully. “This is just as ridiculous as holding something you said as a child against you. I know that, okay?”

“I’m sure it’s not,” he says, though he know it will be of little comfort. Tessa won’t believe him until she’s told him all of the nitty gritty and he looks at her the same way as he had before. “And I don’t blame you for not telling me again.” It’s her who reaches out then, quickly shaking her head as she puts a hand on his knee. Before she can make excuses for him, he wraps his hand around hers. “Tessa, I was stupid for not having believed you. I’m pretty sure I still believed in Santa when you told me. There’s no excuse and I can’t apologize enough for that.” Realizing he’s yet to actually apologize, he brings their joined hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you every day if you need me to.”

“Don’t be silly,” she sighs. “Every other day will do.” When he laughs, she squeezes his hand tighter.

The seriousness never quite leaves her features, even despite her jest. He knows what’s coming, is pretty sure anyway, the idea popping up anytime he would think of why they both dance around this connection between them. “It’s your parents, isn’t it?”

She groans, dropping her forehead against the granite top. “It’s ridiculous.” She turns and he almost laughs again at how squished her face is on the counter. “I’m an adult and yet I still have issues because my parents divorced.” 

He drags his stool closer to her, puts his head right down in front of hers. “Your parents were together a really long time, Tess. Of course that’d make you scared.”

Tessa nods and the counter makes her face pull. “Longer than I’ve known you.”

“How long did your parents know each other before they started dating?” 

Their joined hands get pulled into her lap and he feels the fingers of her other hand start tracing the rivers and mountains of his hand. “Six months, I think… Dated for two years? Then got married and had Casey.”

He thinks, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, that he knew that, but it’s been a long time since anyone has talked about the Virtue marriage. “Okay, so for your parents six months, we have twenty years. That’s…” He pauses to do the math. “240 months. If we take 240 months to do what your parents did for six, we’ll be dead by the time you decide you want to marry me.”

Tessa watches him carefully, eyes darting all over his face, like she’s trying to memorize it or find something she’s never seen before. How she can think that when he wears every emotion on his sleeve, he doesn’t know, but, then again, he feels like he’s seeing a new side to her now. She locks eyes with his and says the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I already know I’d marry you.” It is at once timid and sure, scared and confident, laced with so much love that he wants to wrap himself around her. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he murmurs, lifting his head until his nose brushed against hers.

Still, she frowns. “What if we mess it up?” Her hand squeezes his so hard it hurts.

He lifts a shoulder, a half hearted shrug, all that his current position will allow. “I was ready to go all in that spring break.” It’s something they’ve never talked about, that wonderous week hidden like a box in the back of a closet, one that you visit alone when you’re wistful and maybe a little sad. “It killed me when you shut down, but I get it, Tessa. I always have.”

Tears start gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answers softly. “And if we could still be friends after that week, what makes you think you’ll lose me if we give it a shot?”

“Because it doesn’t seem possible,” she admits, “to have everything I could ever want.”

He sits up, only to be able to wipe away the tears that are slowly following the slope of her nose with his free hand, not willing to let go of her other. “Well, can I try and prove you wrong?”

Her laugh is wet but joyful. She sniffs indelicately  as she sits back up. “Yeah, okay.”

Now he’s the one squeezing her hand so tight that it must be uncomfortable. “Yeah?”

She nods and stands up, coming to stand between his parted legs. “Yeah.”

Kissing Tessa feels like coming home. It feels like the most right thing he’s ever done with his life and he can’t help but be thankful to whatever higher power is out there that he’s allowed this, allowed her. He wraps an arm around her waist to bring her closer, a soft moan getting lost in her mouth when she scratches at the back of his neck, her fingers weaving through the hair there. 

When they pull apart, reluctant, the bouquet sitting in the middle of the island blooming and the pumpkin which had long been forgotten, has grown twice its size. Tessa seems almost bashful when he notices but all Scott can do is laugh and pull her back in, drunk on the taste of her and the smell of flowers.

—

Tessa stretches in the Adirondack chair, her bare feet curling into the grass while her hands grip the arm rests. The wreath of flowers that sits on top of her head goes crooked when she rests against the back of the chair but she doesn’t pay any attention it, too enamored by the sight in front of her. Scott stokes the fire that’s she’s tended to all evening, his own simple flower crown sitting snug on his head. He had taken the utmost care in making it this morning, a deep line of concentration between his eyebrows as he weaved the flowers together that she had run her thumb over lovingly when he was nearly done, unable to leave him be any longer.

She’s not sure she’s ever had a more wonderful Beltane. Her family has always celebrated it, mostly, Tessa thinks, for her own enjoyment. It’s a time to celebrate the blooms and the changing weather, the lengthening of days and the beautiful rebirth the earth is undergoing. This year brought Scott and his family, and what had always been a good time that made Tessa breathe a little easier, turned into a celebration that filled her with so much love that it burst from every part of her. The flowers unfolded and stretched and filled the air with their delicious scents. The fruit from her vines and trees were the sweetest they’ve ever been. There was so much laughter and so many smiles and Scott, warm and steady at her side the entire time. The kisses he left along her skin like tiny embers, making her whole body shiver and move closer to him. 

Their families have gone now, leaving her garden empty and flowers strewn everywhere along the lawn, fallen from their nieces’ hair and from around their families necks. Soon, she’ll get up and toss them into the flames, burrow into Scott’s side to watch the yellows and reds and oranges be absorbed by the fire seamlessly. She eyes the dark front of clouds moving towards them. It’ll be nice to have the fire go out organically, tamped out by a cleansing rain. 

Scott wipes his hands on his shorts as he makes his way over to her. He seems to have caught sight of the storm coming in too. “We’ll have to head in soon,” he says, taking the hand she offers and helping her to her feet.

“Nonsense.” She presses onto the balls of her feet so she can kiss him. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

His hands right her crown, careful of the petals. “It looks like it will be more than a little.”

“It won’t be a storm,” she assures him. “If it goes that way, we’ll go in. Promise.” At his nod, she kisses him again, her hands dipping below the neck of his shirt. They stay like that, their kisses at once sweet and dirty, until the smell of rain overpowers everything else. “Help me gather the fallen flowers. We’ll toss them into the fire.”

Scott keeps his findings in his hands while she uses the skirt of her dress to carry the flowers over to the fire pit, not caring if the white gets stained with dirt. He waits for her to go first, looking to her for instruction even though she’s told him what today would bring for the past month. It’s cute, how much he wants to get everything right for her.

When she eases down onto the grass, Scott tries to get her a chair but she shakes her head, tugging on his hand so he’ll sit down beside her. She explains that she feels better with the soil so close to her. She digs her nails into the grass and pulls up a flower in the wake of her hand. “May I?” His hand is poised around the stem and when she tells him it’s okay, he plucks it, deposits it behind his ear. 

A gust of wind rolls through, a few scattered drops of rain falling from the sky. One lands on the bridge of Scott’s nose, another on the top of her foot. She sighs, content and happy, and burrows further into Scott’s side, her arms wrapping tight around the arm closest to her. He indulges her for a minute or so until the rain starts in earnest, the drops big enough to see as they fall around them, then pulls her into his lap. At first, she thinks it might be to try and shield her from some of the rain. It’s a little cold out and she knows he worries about her getting sick. Only his head finds its home in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and wet against the slope of her skin, and his hands find purchase on her hip and her thigh, her dress bunching from the force of his grip.

“Beltane is all about celebrating fertility.” Her eyes widen a little when she feels his hands flex against her skin. “Not that I’m saying we should make a baby,” she adds quickly, her own hand coming to pet his hair back, the rain liable to make it stick to his face. “It’s just, a lot of witches celebrate by having sex.”

He hums against the column of her throat before leaning back. “For the record, starting a family with you isn’t a scary thing.” They’ve only been dating seven months so the idea  _ should _ be preposterous. Who consciously has a baby with someone that early in a relationship? But then Tessa remembers their foundation is taller and stronger than most and suddenly the idea doesn’t seem ridiculous at all. “I just didn’t expect you to bring it up so soon.”

“Me either,” she admits. “You want to have babies with me?”

Rain catches in the lines around his eyes that deepen when he smiles so brilliantly at her. “Tess, the day we got together, we more or less decided to get married. Of course I want to have kids with you.” He pauses and his smile shrinks a little. “But maybe less than our parents had.”

Tessa tosses her head back, laughing up at the sky. “Deal. I am  _ definitely _ not having four.” She thinks of all their nieces and nephews and can’t imagine how her mother handled raising four or how Alma managed three boys.

Scott joins her laughter. “I think two sounds good.” His hand sneaks beneath her dress that’s already turning sheer from the rain. “We don’t have to start now,” he adds.

She spreads her legs a little wider. “We can practice though.” She drops kisses along his jaw, tongue darting out to taste the rain. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he chuckles. “Out here?”

She presses her smile against his cheek. “You’re such a fast learner!” Had the weather been warmer when they got together, Tessa thinks they would’ve done this tenfold already. It’s always been a fantasy of hers, to have sex out where she feels the most complete. The closest had been when she lost her virginity in the backseat of her boyfriend’s car, parked out near the interstate. She hadn’t been able to see or tangibly feel the long dry grass that surrounded them but it had prickled at her skin anyway, a small, smarting hum that she ached to feel more of.

She had nearly convinced Scott, back in February, to take her out on the back porch while the snow fell like a blanket over London. Only she sneezed in his face before he could agree, the cold she got from tending to her plants the week before, the cold she’d been hiding from Scott because he had told her she would get sick sticking her bare hands into the snow, stopping any further conversations about having sex in nature that winter season.

“If you get sick from this,” he warns, “you have to agree to stay in bed until you’re better.” She seals the deal with a kiss square on his lips.

The dying fire hisses behind her, the smell of smoke and wood creating the most heady combination when paired with the rain and flowers. Scott’s teeth nip at her bottom lip, a silent request, and when her tongue meets his, she tastes the cherries he’d eaten earlier, the lingering hint of sweetness beneath the tart. His hand palms the inside of her leg with each finger spread wide, like he’s trying to touch as much of her as possible, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin at the crease of her thigh.

A soft cry travels from her throat to his lips, the sound swallowed by the rain falling harder, drops pinging when they hit the fire pit. Tessa thinks she can feel the grass growing over her feet or maybe her feet are sinking into the dirt that’s given way to mud. The garden is going to be a mess, she knows it, but she doesn’t care. She’ll spend the rest of the week tending to it, longer if she has to, so long as she can have this moment right here.

Scott’s hard against her thigh and the feel of him has her cunt clenching around nothing, a warm wet trailing out of her. Tessa breaks away from him, a necessary evil, so that she can straddle his lap, her dress rucking up around her hips until Scott’s hands pull it higher, exposing the plane of her stomach, the curves of her breasts, hiding her face for the moment it takes him to pull it off completely. Her flower crown follows the fabric, landing who knows where, and Tessa is left in Scott’s lap, a scrap of fabric and her wet hair keeping her modest. “You’re wearing too much,” she complains as she discards his own crown, careful to set it down next to them. His mouth is working red marks along her collarbone, teeth scraping and tongue soothing as he sucks at her skin. He must taste the sweat that had stuck to her earlier and the rain enveloping them now, and suddenly she’s eager for her own taste.

Pushing him onto his back, Tessa makes quick work of the buttons on his shirt, her lips caressing each new expanse of skin she reveals. The saltiness of his sweat joins the taste of cherries in her mouth, the rain a cool addition that creates trails she is helpless to ignore. She follows as many as she can as she makes her way down his body, playfully poking at his belly button because she knows it will make him laugh. He jerks beneath her when she does it, hands going to her biceps as he lifts his head. “Don’t start,” he says, going for stern but failing, the second word stumbling with a laugh that mirrors her own.

She bites at the sharp jut of his hip, hands flicking open the button of his shorts and pulling down the zipper. She pushes the fabric down just far enough to free his cock. Normally she would take her time, enjoy the heavy feeling of him on her tongue, savor the way he pulses and twitches and leaks in her mouth, except it’s like electricity running through her, this overwhelming  _ need _ to have him buried inside her. She licks a long stripe to the underside of his cock and, as if he feels the same intensity that she does, he cups the back of her head, urging her not down but up to his face. “I need you,” he says, voice hoarse, his hand curling at her jaw, the thumb that had stroked so close to her cunt rubbing over her bottom lip. His cock pokes at her belly. 

Pushing her underwear out of the way, not wanting to spare a moment to take them off completely, Tessa rises on her knees, grass and mud sticking to her legs, as Scott lines himself up with her cunt. Thunder rolls when Tessa sinks onto his cock, the sound overpowering her moan and Scott’s groaning laugh. “Is that you?”

Her laugh makes her cunt clench and she grins down at Scott as he presses himself more firmly inside her. “I don’t think so.” She rocks her hips, enjoying the slow drag of Scott’s cock inside her, the pressure that presses against her clit when she leans forward. “Bet you could make me though,” she murmurs, carding her fingers through his wet hair. Her lips are so close to his that they touch when she talks and she smirks when he lifts his head to try and kiss her, Tessa pulling back just enough to remain out of reach. 

He lets her tease for another moment before one hand tangles in her hair and the other finds purchase on her hip, thrusting up into her so swiftly that she gasps right before he kisses her. The rain has started to slow and it seems that his lips follow suit, tongue and teeth moving languidly even as he keeps a steady pace with his hips. The contrast between how he touches her is intoxicating, makes her dizzy, boneless and strung tight at the same time. Her toes dig into the mud at the same time she brings a hand down over his shoulder, not wanting to tuck herself into his body just yet. Wet earth coats her hand, filling the life lines and the spaces under her nails, sinking further when Scott bends his legs and fucks her so hard their lips break apart.

She curses and rocks back just as hard. A steady whine escapes her now, joins the symphony of sounds around them. They’re both so slick from the rain that it’s hard to tell if the wetness trailing down her thighs is hers alone, the rhythmic, wet slapping so loud that Tessa is sure it must be a combination of everything. Except she feels so overwhelmed, so damn near holy, that she thinks it must only be her, the earth beneath them and the holiday coursing through her and making her wetter than she’s ever been. 

Scott palms her ass and she knows if she were to look, she’d see the imprints of his hands in mud on her body, something that has her clenching so tight around him that he chokes, hips losing their rhythm. She watches his throat bob before a growl rumbles in his chest, his eyes locking with hers. They’ve never been so bright, so vibrantly hazel. She thinks she can see flecks of gold despite his blown pupils.

She wants to spend forever trying to grow a flower to match them.

“Tess, I’m close,” he manages to get out, a warning even though she can feel his cock twitching inside her, can feel his thighs and stomach begin to shake and flex. 

She pushes herself up, dirty hand coming to rest over his heart. She’ll get more friction this way and already the change in angle has him hitting every part of her that makes her keen. Her other hand, which had still been twisted in his hair, comes to her breast only for Scott to bat it away, cupping her breast with just the right amount of pressure, her nipple hard at the center of his palm. It sends a jolt through her, the sensation growing stronger, deeper, when he takes the hard bud between two of his fingers and twists. Her eyes squeeze shut as her legs tighten around him. 

She licks her lips, tastes the rain and finds it fills her with the same warmth that the sun does. She wonders if it’s because of Scott, if the rain would feel this baptismal, this sweet, if he weren’t fucking her through it, but all thought leaves her the minute she gazes down at him. It is perhaps the most beautiful thing she has ever seen, so cuntwrenchingly exquisite that Tessa isn’t sure how anything else will ever compare to this: Scott laid out underneath her with the earth of her garden below him, rain making a map on his skin, lovebites blooming the length of his torso, her muddy hand over his heart that thumps wildly beneath her touch, his flower crown laying like a halo above his head.

She comes so hard, and so abrupt, that she screams, throat raw from the force of it. She brings Scott over with her. There would have been no escaping it, her orgasm like a hurricane, the force of it all encompassing and leaving nothing untouched. He pulses inside of her and she can feel her cunt being filled more than it’s ever been before she feels the mixture of their cum slowly trickling out of her around his softening cock.

Their combined strength, of which there is very little, both still quaking from the intensity of their coming, manages to get Tessa to his chest without her flopping heavily against him. His arms don’t hold her as tight as they normally do but she can’t blame him, not when she can feel his hands still shaking. She tucks her head beneath his chin, eyes shut as she tries to match her breathing with his, to get it back to something close to normal.

She feels him laugh more than she hears it and, too tired to lift her head to look at him, Tessa simply asks, “what?”

“Look at your garden.”

When her eyes blink open, it’s like seeing Eden, everything lush and in technicolor, her backyard bursting at the seams.

It’s not overgrown and wild but kept and controlled, her garden looking every bit as loved as she feels.

Tessa picks up her head, smiling down at Scott so brightly her cheeks hurt. “ _ We _ did that,” she says, voice laced with the amazement she feels. “You and me…” She nuzzles back into his chest, gazing out at her flowers and vines, her trees and her bushes. Scott strokes her hair gently, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Look at what we made.”

She will have the same wonderment months later while they lay in their bed, her belly big and round, their baby kicking against Scott’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven


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